


Heated Competition

by starlabsforever



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, i just needed to write something fluffy mkay, toxic levels of fluff, unpolished drabbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlabsforever/pseuds/starlabsforever
Summary: "You didn’t volunteer to make hot chocolate for date night. I did.”“Was that a challenge?” Cisco raised his eyebrows. “For real? Are you sure you want to mess with Abuela Ramon?”Cisco is pretty sure that he can convince Caitlin that his grandma's hot chocolate recipe is infinitely superior. (Or maybe he just wants to kiss her.)





	

“That is an absurd amount of whipped cream for one drink,” Caitlin said critically.

Cisco topped his drink off with another spiral of whipped cream. “But the whip is the star of the show, Caitlin! Hot cocoa is nothing if not a vessel for whipped cream.”

She rolled her eyes into infinity. “It masks the flavor of the chocolate.”

“Okay, Rachel Ray,” he said, and set the can down. “Hot chocolate is overrated."

“That’s because you’ve never had my grandma’s recipe,” she said, and clinked her mug against his. “Cheers. Now find out why you’re totally wrong about hot chocolate.”

Cisco narrowed his eyes skeptically and took a sip. His eyes widened and he set the mug down. “Geez. Talk about a sugar rush.”

“Liar!” She hit his arm. “You just don’t want to admit that it was amazing. You don’t want to admit that I was right about something.”

“Whatever, it's pretty much a condition of our relationship that I acknowledge that you're inherently right. You're the one who never acknowledges my knowledge and wisdom."

"I do, all the time."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, she insisted, and furrowed her brow with concentration. “Um. I can’t think of an example right now.” Cisco smirked. “But I know they exist,” she said defensively. "Besides, I'm definitely right about this.

He took another sip. “I mean, I guess it kind of has a certain… tooth-rotting charm to it.”

Caitlin set her mug down. “You really don’t like it, do you?” She asked, looking slightly crestfallen.

“No, babe, it’s great,” he said hastily, and took another sip, trying not to wince at the cloying saccharine flavor. Even for him, this crap was sweet. “It’s just… I have a thing about hot chocolate. There’s a lot of childhood nostalgia attached to it for me.” The corners of his mouth quirked into a grin. “My grandma’s recipe is pretty stinking awesome.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that this was the Grandma Olympics,” Caitlin said snippily, and picked her mug back up. “Besides, you didn’t volunteer to make hot chocolate for date night. I did.”

“Was that a challenge?” Cisco raised his eyebrows. “For real? Are you sure you want to mess with Abuela Ramon?”

“You’re the only one I want to mess with,” she teased, and linked her arm around his neck. He ducked away, wrangled himself out of her arms, and stood up.

“Babe, as much as I would love to do this sexy-hot-mess-cuddle thing with you right now, you challenged my abuela, and I cannot let that slide.” He marched over to her kitchen and threw his hands out in a “what-can-I-do” gesture. “Gotta defend her honor.”

Caitlin followed him into the kitchen, mug still in hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Francisco.”

“Ooh, Francisco.” His eyes lit up with his goofy grin and he flung the refrigerator door open. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not as much trouble as you’re going to be in when you realize that Grandma Tanhauser’s hot chocolate recipe can’t be beat.”

“You are all talk, Caitlin Snow,” he said confidently, and set the milk carton down on the counter with a dull thump. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

He opened the milk and poured it into the pot with a splash, and then opened the cocoa powder and messily shook it into the pot, but half of it ended up on the stove-top and on his white Jaws t-shirt.

“Don’t you measure anything?” Caitlin snapped, rushing beside him with a dishrag in her hand and wiping up his mess.

“It’s hot chocolate, Cait. It’s all about the flavor.” He spun the whisk around in the pan and then reached up to open her spice cupboard. “Do you have paprika?”

“Of course I do.” Caitlin reached up to find the bottle and handed it to him, and then yanked her hand back. “Don’t tell me you’re putting paprika in hot chocolate.”

He wrestled it away from her grasp. “Paprika in hot chocolate is the only way to have hot chocolate. As per my mother country.” He tapped the bottle against the edge of the pan, and some of the red dust tumbled out. “It gives it so much more depth of flavor.”

“But hot chocolate is sweet.” She scrunched up her face and her nose crinkled adorably. “Sweet and spicy don’t go together.”

“Your white sensibilities are none of my concern,” he answered, and gave it another vigorous whisking. “Bring on the mugs. I am about to rock your culinary world.”

He poured the concoction into the mugs and held one out to Caitlin. “No whipped cream?” she asked incredulously.

He shook his head. "It masks the flavor." He grinned. "Of the  _paprika."_

She narrowed her eyes and raised the mug to her lips. He watched her face carefully as she evaluated the flavor, expecting to see her screw up her face with distaste, but she actually nodded thoughtfully. “It’s actually… the paprika actually works. It complements the flavor of the cocoa without overwhelming it with sweetness.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you want to kiss me?”

“No,” she insisted. “It’s good. You were-” She paused quickly and took another sip of the drink.

“Whoaaa.” He grabbed the mug with his hand, halting it. “Finish that sentence, please.”

“What sentence?” she said innocently.

“I believe you were about to say that I was right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. You were right.” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Just so you know, I might have just said _that_ because I want to kiss you.”

“Really?” He set his mug down and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her body closer to his.

“Yeah.” The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile. “You have some whipped cream on your face,” she said, and reached up to wipe it off.

“Did you get it?” He asked, and couldn’t stop the infectious grin that was spreading on his face.

“Um,” she said, squinting at him. “I don’t think so. Let me try again.” Her arms snaked over his shoulders and pressed her closer to him. He could still taste the paprika on her lips when he kissed her.

They pulled apart to catch their breath, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t really have whipped cream on my face, did I?”

She pursed her lips. “No. But I really wanted to kiss you.”

His hands slid down her body and rested on her waist. “The feeling is mutual, I promise.” He broke into a wider grin. “I think you have whipped cream on your face, babe.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him again.


End file.
